He Asked Too Much
by littlesun
Summary: Oneshot.. one interesting meeting of the Dark Lord and Severus.. a future one.. AU, where Severus is alive... Beta-read by wonderful SometimeSelkie


He Asked Too Much

The door to the cottage opened with a bang.

The handsome, important-looking man didn't bother with knocking – not as if the man inside was surprised. One didn't expect the ruler of the wizarding world to bother, did one?

Behind the ruler, two bodyguards stepped in. They were for effect, mostly. The former Dark Lord – he was calling himself something else nowadays – was perfectly capable of protecting himself.

The owner of the cottage quickly set down the newspaper he had been holding and stood up. He bowed his head.

"Severus."

"Lord Conqueror," Severus answered, keeping his head bowed. He was glad that the Lord abandoned requiring the kneeling position – or so the generously distributed leaflets informing about the new etiquette claimed.

"Ah, very polite," the Dark Lord said with pleased sarcasm, "even a wanted man on the run knows the proper protocol. Then again," his voice hardened, "you had always been very polite, hadn't you, my servant?"

Severus reached for a non-committal answer. "I tried, my Lord."

"You two, leave us." Lord Conqueror dismissed his companions without sparing them a glance. "I am completely safe with my dear old Severus here."

Severus really looked – and felt – old in comparison to the Lord, who still looked to be in his thirties. Actually, now that Severus thought about it, Voldemort looked remarkably like his old charismatic self before the baby Harry Potter had made him vanish into thin air. The Potions master wondered how the Dark Lord had managed to restore his looks. Then he shrugged it off. Who cared?

"Let's sit, shall we?" Lord Conqueror motioned toward the table. With a feeling of surrealism Severus lowered himself back on the chair. Was he supposed to offer his former master a cup of tea?

"You left us rather abruptly nine years ago, Severus," the Lord said conversationally.

For the life of him, Severus couldn't find an answer to this. His life was forfeit, anyway, so why did the other man bother with dancing around? Severus was tired. Tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of trying for unreachable penance.

"Of course, you had left my side years before, figuratively speaking," the Lord continued after a pause. Against his will, Severus twitched.

"Yes, I have known you to be a traitor since I have been reborn," the Lord nodded. "It was only your brewing skills that kept you alive. That, and also I hoped that you would see the truth again and leave Dumbledore's side."

For the first time since the Dark Lord stepped into his cottage, Severus felt that maybe he would survive. Miraculously, the man didn't want him dead - or not at the moment, anyway. Maybe the Lord Conqueror needed some special brew. Severus pressed his lips together. He certainly wasn't going to brew any more poisons or torture potions, though refusal would probably make his death more prolonged and painful.

"Severusss," the Dark Lord hissed, his meagre patience – that he apparently had learned during the years Severus had managed to evade him – thinning out.

"I saw the truth," Severus admitted truthfully. He remembered all too well the shock of the moment when he had suddenly seen through the deadly net of lies. Dumbledore had been fattening Potter up to be a slaughtered pig. Lamb. Whatever. Dumbledore had pressed Severus further and further, using his vow to Lily as a hammer and nail in one. _'Do this, this, that and this to protect the boy.'_ Severus' every attempt to protect the boy was actually another step towards Potter's becoming a willing sacrificial lamb. Pig. Whatever. Dumbledore had kept trapping the stupid child and Severus had been unknowingly helping him to spread the bloody net.

"Yet you didn't come back to me," the other man remarked, breaking Severus' line of bitter memories.

Severus shook his head mutely. The answer, "I saw through your lies, too." didn't seem tactical.

The silence stretched.

Finally, Severus provided truth, as unsatisfactory his former master might find it to be. "I wanted out."

"And you kept hiding, changing places, identities, and meanwhile you were brewing healing potions and inventing new ones under various names." Lord Conqueror summed up Severus' life of late.

"You are well informed, Lord Conqueror." Severus nodded, his face obscured by curtain of his hair. He was tired of this conversation. Unfortunately, asking _'What do you want?'_ sounded somewhat crude to his Slytherin ears.

"You might have managed to escape this time as well," the Lord observed, "but my men were able to find your hiding places faster and faster."

Severus sighed inwardly. Unlike him, his former master seemed to enjoy prolonging this game. Of course, for the cat it was always more amusing than for the mouse. Still, one might think that ruler of three continents might have something better to do with his time. Conquering the rest of the planet, for example.

"I was tired of moving." He opted for truth once more. "My experiments need time and stability. I have lost them twice this month already."

"Experiments are more important than your life now?" The Lord raised his eyebrow in a mocking imitation of Severus' trademark gesture.

"I suppose my life doesn't hold much value at the moment," Severus sidestepped. Hopefully, it would be a hint strong enough for the Lord to proceed to... further unpleasantries.

"Do you seek atonement for yourself, Severus? Well, tell me, does it work?"

Severus had had enough. If he wanted a mind healer, he would have found himself one! And preferably one who meant him well, and who could understand his shame, regret and his need to pay the world back at least by inventing potions that would save lives – in feeble exchange for the lives Severus had taken.

"Is there something specific you wanted of me, Lord Conqueror?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Say, Severus, how do you like the new regime? Stability, and peace, if under a heavy hand?" The Lord shifted the topic.

"I don't follow politics much." Severus shrugged carelessly. To himself, he had to admit that the Lord Conqueror had become a surprisingly reasonable tyrant. Since Potter had been killed by the Dark Lord, and the prophecy had been published and explained, there hadn't been much resistance. The Lord had taken over one country after another without unnecessary bloodshed. Of course, he waltzed over any resistance without mercy. But if he had found none, the Lord Conqueror didn't bathe in blood just for fun as he had used to.

"Do _not_ be obstinate, Severus!"

"You have been a rather pleasant autocrat," Severus allowed cheekily. It was more and more apparent that the Lord wanted him for something. His life was safe – at least for this moment.

For a second, it seemed that the Lord would explode. Instead, he laughed. "You have always been too witty for your own good, Severus."

Severus gave him a mock bow. This was turning quite surreal.

"After the death of my dear crazy Bella, my policy changed. Carrot and stick, and all that," the Lord said with vague disgust, "a bit boring, but efficient."

Severus blinked. Was this supposed to make sense?

"In line with the carrot policy, I give my sheep education and healtcare. You, Severus, will be part of the healthcare."

Severus wondered if he would be asked to brew potions for hospitals? However, he doubted that the ruler would be wasting his time for recruiting one single brewer. It still didn't make much sense.

He shrugged carelessly. "My bedside manners are atrocious."

"Severus!" The other man hissed, and his gaze promised the Cruciatus. "I told you not to be obstinate! I came to offer you a post of the Executive Potions master of the new Potions Centre I plan to found."

Well, that made sense.

Severus was thinking furiously. If he had backing and a full flow of ingredients, his research would go faster. Thus, he could invent more potions, help more people and possibly lower his sense of guilt. Or maybe not. He might find himself buried under piles of paperwork, stuck in dealing with unbearable Potions masters, dimwit assistants, and who know who else. Giggling over-talkative secretaries, possibly. He blanched.

"I prefer working in peace," Severus reasoned. "If I get ingredients and access to all literature, I can work faster. Your Potions Centre then can use my recipes to brew the potions in larger quantities." _Because I am not a trained monkey_, he added to himself, remembering the countless batches of the most basic – and boring – drugs he had had to make for the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

"Too bad that I didn't come to fulfil your dreams," the Lord quipped. "Head of the new Potions Centre, or death."

Well, put this way... At least Severus wouldn't be obliged to teach anyone.

"I will choose my staff," Severus negotiated.

"You are starting tomorrow at eight; Ministry of Magic, London." The Lord stood up, indicating he was done with his former servant. Severus decided to take it as a sign he was indeed free to choose his subordinates. Maybe, if they got on his nerves, he could sack them all?

With his hand on the door handle, the Lord turned to him. "Why did you leave Dumbledore, Severus?"

Severus hesitated. "He asked too much," he responded briefly.

"What did he want?" The tone of the voice permitted no lies, no half truths.

"He wanted me to kill him."

The Dark Lord raised his eyebrows in unfeigned astonishment. It took a few seconds for him to regain his balance. Then, he threw his handsome face back and laughed heartily. "I promise I will never ask that of you, Severus."


End file.
